


So Many Torahs

by blacklid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-18
Updated: 2009-03-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacklid/pseuds/blacklid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both think they have it all figured out. They don't, of course. (Speculative end of mytharc.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Many Torahs

"That's the last time I try confessing to a loser angel," Dean coughed again and more blood trickled from the edge of his lip. He leaned his head back against the altar and closed his eyes to concentrate on breathing. The sleeve of his shirt was soaked where he gently covered the gaping wound in his stomach.

Sam was too strong to bleed. The matching wound peeked through where he had ripped his shirt open and grazed his hand over the ragged flesh. His face was full of shadows as he slowly reached behind Dean's neck and tugged at the worn cording bearing the amulet; slid it up and over Dean's head. "I'm listening, but God, Dean. Do you know how hard I tried? To save you?"

"Yeah, I know. Bobby knows. He would ha-"

"It wouldn't be the same." The sound of Sam's voice, quiet and rushed, comforted Dean but he shook his head more and more vigorously as Sam continued to speak: "You went to Hell. You could have saved yourself. You let me think that I could save you, and then you stood in my way every chance you got! It was right here the whole time! Why-"

"You know why." Dean opened his eyes. His gaze inventoried the dirt on Sam's clothes, the gaping hole he'd inflicted on Sam when he'd stabbed his own stomach with Ruby's knife, at the blood on Sam's face, the strong sadness in Sam's eyes. "Sammy, I had to stop you... make you listen. I had to protect you. It was all that mattered."

Sam looked down at the palm of his hand and turned the yellow figure over with his finger meditatively. He managed to look condescending and sheepish all at the same time as he searched Dean's face again. "I should have figured it out when Mom was at home instead of in Hell."

Dean smiled upside down with one side of his mouth. He seemed to remember something with amusement and looked up into Sam's eyes, the same color as his own -- glinting gold in the dimness. "The name... is Bond. James Bond."

Sam blinked and shook his head. Two tears escaped and made a trail through the blood on his left cheek. "Whatever, Double-O."

"Dude, it was never for me... or for Dad. When Mom left it ... it was always for you. To save you."

"Yeah, but... all of this? I chose this for you. I didn't know it then but-" Sam whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well. And what if it wasn't us?... I dunno, man. I'm glad. Saving the world feels pretty awesome."

Sam paused and frowned like he'd realized something else, then he shuffled forward onto his knees. "I never thought we'd actually want Lucifer to rise."

Dean flinched and tongued at the tickling sensation as thickening blood dripped from his chin. "And he's gettin' kinda hard to hold onto here, so any day now, man."

"Am I supposed to say anything first?"

Dean winced as he pulled his body up, muddy boots scraping against the wooden floor, to lean more heavily against the altar and shrugged. "Fravashi don't need instructions, I guess."

Closing his eyes, Sam covered the amulet with his other palm and concentrated. A tiny light glowed in the center and made Dean squint as Sam melted it down. When he opened them again, a small red pool bubbled and vibrated in his right hand. "Now what?"

"You put it on the knife."

The knife was still bloody and stuck to the floor where Dean had dropped it.

"I... what?"

"You heard me. Do it."

Sam picked up the knife and the blade hovered over his hand. "But... this is Amrita, now. Right? This could save your life."

"No. Well, yes. But no, not exactly." Dean's throat worked as his body began to arch with effort.

"Which is it?!"

"Hurry up, damnit, or it won't even matter..." Dean's eyes grew wider.

Sam held his breath and slid the blade across the palm of his right hand, cutting himself deeply.

"Sam... no."

Dean's blood from the soaked knife made a black line through the fiery red. Sam gasped at the burning sensation in his stomach as he, too, began to bleed. The liquid in his hand bubbled up and glowed golden as Sam's blood seeped through. The newly baptized knife was hissing and smoking. He drove the point into the floorboards and slapped his palms together, lunging forward as Dean's body jerked and slid down the side of the altar and spread out spasming on the floor.

"No... Dean. Here. Here..." Sam laid his right hand on his brother's stomach and his left hand over himself. With one more weak breath, Sam concentrated and the low glow spread out over both of them. Sam didn't need to say the incantation aloud; he only had to close his eyes and think the words. And _stay, please stay, don't leave me again_.

Sam slumped over Dean's body.

The room was silent.

The candles on the altar flickered.

A deep choking sound made Sam open his eyes and pull himself up. He didn't burn anymore. He rubbed the empty spot in his shirt, touched the smooth flesh and looked around. The sanctuary looked the same.

"A church... _really_." Dean's voice rasped beside him.

Sam stood up silently and watched.

His brother's body rose a bit stiffly and looked down at itself.

"Is he still here?" Sam stared at him.

Dean looked up and his face twitched. It looked like the attempt of a smile. He tilted his head and popped his jaw and both shoulders. "Grab that," he said flatly, pointing at the knife. Then he turned and started walking toward the giant red doors.

"I'll want him back," Sam's voice echoed down the aisle. "You know what I can do."

His brother's body stopped in the center of the room and he looked up at the stained glass windows, closed his eyes and let the colors wash over his face. He didn't turn around. "I'm counting on it," he said quietly. "You help me, you'll get him back. It takes two, you know. Always has. But then, you knew that. Didn't you? Now..." he looked over his shoulder at Sam and his eyes flashed the brightest absence of color that Sam had ever seen, "let's go kill my son."


End file.
